On the quiet, sparsely populated street, beneath the dense foliage of the Zelkova trees, two women walked closely together. The concrete road echoed with faint tapping sounds that came from the white cane of the blind woman. Hana cried while walking, continuously calling her daughter's name:

"Misa, where are you?"

"Don't worry, Hana-san," Kanako consoled her gently from beside, "I am certain that I will help you...find your daughter."

There was a hint of hesitation in Kanako's comforting words.

A single leaf fell onto the woman’s charcoal woolen hat, which blended with the color of her graying hair. Kanako delicately plucked it away before embracing Hana tightly. Sadness clouded her eyes as she cast a longing gaze into the distance, recalling her recent conversation.

"It was two weeks ago during my night shift when officer Ryosuke and I were on duty. It was around ten o'clock in the evening when Hana-san burst into the station with a look of panic on her face. She explained that she couldn't get in touch with her daughter. Concerned for her well-being, we immediately decided to accompany her to her home and assist in the search for her daughter. But as we entered the house, we saw...an altar with her daughter's name on it." The police officer paused, shifting his gaze towards Ryosuke, silently urging him to continue.

"Well, yes," Ryosuke began, his voice carrying a tinge of concern. "Upon further investigation, we discovered that Hana-san's daughter had passed away eight years ago."

"Are you suggesting that Hana-san encountered...the ghost of her deceased daughter?" Kanako expressed a slight surprise, this was the second time in two consecutive days she had heard about supernatural stories.

As she absorbed the information, Kanako perused the file she held, containing the records of Hana, whose full name was Inoue Benihana, 58 years-old. The file chronicled the tragedy that befell Benihana's family—her husband had succumbed to illness twelve years prior at the age of 64, while their daughter Misa tragically lost her life in a traffic accident near their home.

To avoid veering into implausible territory, Ryosuke responded with an awkward tone, "Initially, we did entertain that possibility." His gaze shifted towards his colleague officer, who evaded eye contact, choosing to look elsewhere. "However, after reviewing Hana's recent medical history, we discovered signs of Alzheimer's disease."

Kanako flipped to the next page of the file, revealing Hana's medical records. The documents confirmed that she had been diagnosed with mild Alzheimer's disease since two years ago. This memory loss syndrome progressed through three stages, gradually eroding memory over time. Typically affecting older individuals, the disease could be triggered by various factors, including genetics, living environment, psychological issues, or brain injuries. Regrettably, there was currently no cure for Alzheimer's disease, and treatment focused on managing and slowing its progression to the final stage.

"So, the reason Hana-san suddenly couldn't reach her daughter was because she had forgotten that her daughter had passed away," Kanako deduced, her deduction resonating with a sense of empathy.

While it was uncommon for individuals in the early stages of Alzheimer's to forget close family members, Hana's visual impairment may have played a role, disrupting her memory recall.

"Why don't you try explaining this gently to her? It would be better than leaving her in this distressed state," Kanako suggested, hoping to offer a solution.

"We attempted that," Ryosuke sighed, weariness apparent on his face and that of his colleague. "We have tried to explain it to Hana-san, but every time we mentioned that her daughter had passed away long ago, she would immediately become furious, insisting that her daughter was still alive. She would start yelling and causing a disturbance at the station, even physically attacking us. Unfortunately, with her disabilities and mental health issues, there's not much we can do."

The police officer sitting beside Ryosuke rolled up his sleeve, revealing deep scratches that spoke volumes about the intensity of Hana's outbursts.

"But Kanako-san, that's not the strangest part," Ryosuke continued with a serious expression. "A few days after our initial encounter, Hana-san returned, pleading for our help to find her daughter once again."

"Yes, to avoid any trouble, we pretended to conduct a search by taking her on a roundabout route, reassuring her that we would assist her," the officer with the scratches chimed in. "She was still sad, but somewhat satisfied with our efforts at that time. However..."

"Only a few days later, she returned again with the same conversation and attitude, completely unremembered to her previous visits. This pattern has persisted ever since," Ryosuke explained, his frustration palpable.

Kanako fell into a contemplative silence, attentively listening to the officers' briefing. With some knowledge of Alzheimer's disease, she recognized that at this stage, patients typically only experienced forgetfulness regarding the location of objects or incomplete tasks. Forgetting an event as significant as visiting the police station within such a short span of time was highly unusual.

As Kanako immersed herself in her thoughts, the two police officers stood up, bowing their heads, and pleaded, "Kanako-san, please help us!" Witnessing their earnestness, Kanako couldn't turn them away.

Kanako accompanied Hana to her home. To make their journey more convenient, Kanako suggested that Hana hold her hand. The physical connection seemed to bring a sense of ease to Hana, with her tense expression gradually softening. Sensing an opportunity to establish rapport, Kanako gently initiated a conversation.

"Hana-san, would you mind sharing a little bit about your daughter, Misa?" Kanako's tone was polite and caring, hoping to encourage Hana to open up.

"Misa, my precious child, she studies very well, and her grades are always at the top of the class," Hana said with pride, her face brightening as she spoke of her daughter, her eyebrows arching joyfully.

"That’s impressive, Hana-san. I remember that when I was young, I also used to study a lot, but math was the only subject that I was good at. So I couldn't compete with other students," Kanako confessed, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Hana chuckled softly. "Hoho, math is Misa’s favorite subject. I bought her various math reference books to support her studies. She often stays up late at night, diligently working through the exercises I gave and completing her homework. And, of course, I'm always there by her side, offering support and helping her stay awake until she finishes. As a mother, it's my responsibility to create the best possible learning environment for my child."

Hana’s response suddenly sent Kanako a wave of discomfort. She chose to overlook it.

“I truly admire your dedication, Hana-san. How about her other hobbies? I’m curious to know what she likes.”

“Other hobbies?” Hana repeated, seeming confused by Kanako’s question. “My daughter has never expressed any desire for other activities. Her focus is always on studying. She understands that achieving high scores is her ticket to a better future.”

Feeling like the conversation was going nowhere, Kanako decided not to say anything further. She would need a different approach in their next interaction. She had hoped to wrap up this case quickly, but unfortunately, more work needed to be done.

After Kanako's silence for a while, the voice of the blind woman echoed again.

"Misa, where are you? Have you finished your homework?"

After walking for approximately 15 minutes, their steps came to a halt in front of a weathered, old modern house. Although the houses in this area were similar in size, this particular house stood out with its lack of vitality and gloomy atmosphere. The two-story structure was cloaked in peeling layers of white paint, its windows smudged and foggy from years of neglect. Through the creaking iron gate, a small courtyard with pots of plants that had wilted and been forgotten lay silent.

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Kanako guided Hana into the house, and the tinkling sound of a wind chime filled the air as they crossed the threshold. The interior revealed itself to be small and narrow hallway. Hana automatically settled herself down and removed her sandals, placing them neatly in a corner of the shoe rack. Then, she took out a pair of white slippers from it and put them on. Turning towards Kanako, she offered a warm smile.

"Please make yourself at home, officer."

As Hana spoke, she removed her black glasses and tucked them into the pocket of her light brown blouse. Her ankle-length pale blue skirt, brushing against the floor when she squatted down, was delicately dust-free as she stood up. Each movement she made was natural and practiced, despite her blindness.

"Thank you," Kanako responded with a polite bow.

While Hana made her way into the hallway, Kanako's attention was drawn to the shoe rack. Aside from Hana's recently placed sandals, several pairs of women's shoes of varying styles occupied the space. It could be understood that they belonged to Hana and her late daughter. However, one pair of pink sneakers stood out, their brand and material were too fresh to have belonged to Misa, who had passed away eight years ago. Not to mention its flashy colors, the style of the sneakers completely clashed with the rest of the shoes of a woman who was approaching her sixties.

After putting on a pair of slippers, Kanako surveyed the hallway before her. The morning sunlight streaming through the front window illuminated the place, creating a relatively bright atmosphere. The walls on both sides were adorned with an array of photographs. Most of them were pictures of a successful, older man in kimono, with only a few including Hana by his side. A traditional house could be seen in the backdrop of the snapshots. It seemed to be their former residence, which Hana had left to move here after her husband died. Kanako’s gaze wandered, searching for any picture of Misa, before she paused in front of a room with a sliding door. Inside was a small space with an altar stood, against the wall. There was a photo of a girl placed neatly near a funeral plaque with the name Misa. The girl in the picture stood straight alone in her school uniform; she showed a smile, but Kanako felt it was hollow.

Kanako’s intention to light a stick of incense for the decease was interrupted by Hana’s call.

"Officer, where are you going?"

Sooner or later, Kanako would have to confront Hana and convince her about the truth of her daughter. But before that, she needed to avoid causing unnecessary stress for Hana. Kanako quickly left the room and entered a kitchen, where Hana was standing with an apron.

"Officer, it's been a long time since someone came to my house. Let me cook something for you." Hana said with a gentle smile.

Kanako appreciated Hana’s hospitality, but she also felt a bit unsure about letting a disability person cook for her, so she offered:

"I’ll help you, Hana-san."

This was also an opportunity for Kanako to strengthen her bond with Hana. Hana hesitated for a moment but soon nodded, her face lighting up with joy.

Opening the small refrigerator, Kanako was pleasantly surprised by its well-stocked contents. She took out meat, onions, carrots, potatoes, and a pack of sauce mix; all the essential ingredients needed to cook curry—the dish they had decided to make for lunch today.

Hana received the ingredients and immediately began the preparation. Her movements, from cutting the meat to peeling the onions, were slow and careful, yet remarkably decisive and precise. Kanako couldn't help but admire the independence of someone like Hana, who not only lived alone but also navigated life without sight.

While Hana worked, Kanako actively assisted her, occasionally providing reminders when Hana's Alzheimer's caused her to forget if she had completed a certain task. The act of cooking together was gradually opening Hana’s heart. She began to share stories of her life before marriage. Hana's family was quite poor, she had to fend for herself, and the experiences had been valuable lessons for her ever since.

During the conversation, having learned from their previous one, Kanako avoided mentioning or steering away from any topics that related to Hana's daughter. She was delaying, but she also realized that this friendly atmosphere was a favorable condition. The right moment should be after they finished their meal.

The cooking was completed, the aroma of curry permeating the room.

Kanako helped Hana in tidying up her kitchen. The discarded items that were no longer needed were all placed inside a black bag. Kanako took the bag and put it into a small trash can tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. However, as she turned away, something caught Kanako's attention. She quickly turned back, reopening the lid of the trash can. Digging through it from the bottom, she found an empty fried chicken paper box.

"Hana-san, do you often eat fried chicken?" Kanako inquired, with a look of perplexity on her face.

Hana, standing to wash the knives, responded casually.

“Fried chicken? Oh, that’s Misa’s favorite. She orders it quite often lately,” Hana said, chuckling.

A chilling sensation ran down Kanako's spine.

"Hana-san, may I have a look around your house?" Kanako's expression shifted, her demeanor transforming into that of a serious police officer.

Hana paused. Surprised by the sudden change in Kanako's demeanor, especially after their leisurely time spent preparing the curry.

"Don't you want to eat before starting your work?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, but this is important. It relates to your daughter."

At the mention of her daughter. Hana's face immediately tensed.

"Yes," she replied, her voice filled with worry.

The wind bell rang once more as Kanako exited the front door. The policewoman wanted to scan the outside of the house first before delving into the inside later.

Excluding the entrance of the two officers who were not in Hana’s memory, Hana had claimed that Kanako was the first person who had come to her house after a long time, but the discovery of the pink shoes and the discarded paper box in the trash can told a different story. It became apparent to Kanako that someone had entered the house and posed as her daughter to deceive Hana.

Kanako moved along the courtyard wall, tracing its perimeter. The space was relatively small, now overcrowded with potted plants that veiled the path. Beneath her feet lay a multitude of fallen leaves and branches, some still vibrant green while others had withered and taken on the hues of time. The aftermath of the previous night's storm, combined with neglect, created this unkempt landscape. Kanako's foot suddenly stopped under an upward-opening window above her head on the second floor, but what caught her attention was not the dirty window but a nearby drainpipe. It had visible bends, with distinct gaps between each deformation along its length.

“Someone has stepped on it to climb up to the room.” Kanako thought.

After confirming the solidity of the drainpipe, Kanako started to ascend. She hoped this approach would help her gain a better understanding of the intruder’s appearance and even their motive. With her skillful parkour abilities, she swiftly reached the window and entered the room within seconds. Before landing on the floor, she double-checked not to accidentally disrupt any potential clues.

Compared to other rooms on the first floor, the room in which Kanako was standing was quite large and showed a clear feminine touch. The walls had a soft pink hue. A collection of stuffed animals nestled on the bed among the blankets and pillows. To the right of the window, there was a wooden closet with a full-length mirror. To the left was a desk, with neatly placed books and notebooks. An open red box without a lid revealed an assortment of citrus perfumes on the table.

Kanako meticulously observed the room, noting its design and display, which unmistakably indicated that it belonged to the ill-fated Misa. The arrangement of items, from books to notebooks, blankets to pillows, remained undisturbed, suggesting that the room had not been used for a considerable time. However, the accumulation of dust contradicted this assumption. Specifically, the surfaces of the desk and the bed appeared relatively clean, suggesting that they had been tended to, with an estimated timeframe around two weeks ago. This duration coincided with Hana's frequent visits to the police station.

Contrary to the aforementioned areas, the floor, though it had been cleaned, still showed some traces of dirt. It seemed like the person who had used this room recently was a messy type.

“Huh?”

When Kanako was crouching down to examine the floor, her keen eyes caught sight of a notebook hidden under the bed. Brushing off the dirt, she carefully retrieved it. The cover featured an image of lemons, with a neat line of writing in the corner that read "Misa's diary."

Curiosity piqued. Kanako opened the notebook and started to read the content inside...

Closing the diary, a tear rolled down Kanako’s cheek. She walked absentmindedly to the window and then opened her phone to call someone.

The phone rang for a few seconds before a cheerful high-pitched voice answered.

“Konnichiwa Captain-san, what do you need?”

“Misa...” Kanako’s voice choked.

“You’re crying? Wow, that’s a rare sight.” Misa sounded amused and curious. "Did something happen?"

"No, I am not. It's just some dust in my eye." Kanako lied poorly. She didn't even bother to make it convincing.

"Sure, sure. And I'm the queen of Japan," Misa replied sarcastically. "It's okay. If something's bothering you, share it with me," she said, trying to sound empathetic while secretly pressing the record button on her phone.

After taking a long breath, Kanako gradually regained her normal composure.

"Fine...I'll tell you." She said reluctantly.

"Nice~! no, I mean, good. You can trust me." Misa said eagerly, hoping to hear some juicy gossip or drama. She wanted to capture this rare moment of vulnerability from her boss. Maybe she could use it to blackmail her later and get a raise in salary.

"Have you ever thought that you died eight years ago?" Kanako asked suddenly, in a serious tone that made Misa shiver.

"Wh-what? What are you talking about, captain?" Misa asked nervously.

"I just found your diary." Kanako said flatly.

"My diary? But I don't write diary." Misa protested.

"Are you sure? It has your name on it." Kanako said skeptically.

"Really? What does it say?" Misa asked anxiously.

"It says 'Inoue Misa'."

"..."

"..."

"CAPTAIN!!!" Misa shouted angrily. "My name is Fu Ji Mo To Mi Sa, not Inoue Misa! How can you mistake my name like that?"

"Ahhh, Fujimoto Misa. I see. My bad, my bad. How could I forget it?" Kanako said innocently.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" Misa accused.

There was a long silence as Kanako tried to suppress her laughter. She had successfully pranked her annoying subordinate. Then she switched back to her professional tone.

"Listen up, Fujimoto Misa. You have five minutes to find and send me the files of Inoue Misa, who died 8 years ago. I’m helping Tachibana police station with a case related to her.”

"CAPTAIN!!!" Misa whined.

"...297, 296, 295..." Kanako started counting down. "Hurry up, Misa. Or I'll deduct your salary this month."

"...Fine, fine. I'm on it." Misa said grudgingly.

"Good."

While waiting for Misa’s response, Kanako looked at the sky above. The diary pressed against her body, as a pang of sorrow filled her heart again.